


Filler

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Coming Untouched, Dumpster Bagel: Do Not Eat, F/M, Incest, Melancholy, Object Insertion, Past Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Pervertibles, Podfic Welcome, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Klaus ruminates on filler, linguistic and otherwise.





	Filler

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the grossest thing I've ever written. I am stupidly proud of it.
> 
> Betaed by the ever wonderful ElectraXT - thank you!

Klaus was the first to admit he didn't have the best impulse control. Some of it was probably the drugs - the sheer amount of substances he had snorted, drank, shot up, smoked, and stuck in various orifices had no doubt left an indelible mark on his various workings. But even before the drugs, when he was just a weird, skinny kid who saw things nobody else did… well, his impulse control hadn't been top notch.

And now he was - horror of horrors - sober, and he was bored. Bored, and in that specific state of horny that was like having a craving he couldn't satisfy. He wanted… something. Maybe he wanted to sink a hot, thick cock down his throat, or maybe he wanted to feel a pussy clench around the length of his cock…

Klaus groaned into his pillow, absently grinding his hips forward, pressing his cock into the bed under him. He was half hard - the kind of boner that wasn't sure what it wanted. Just like the rest of him right now. Maybe he needed a good old fashioned jerk off, so that he could wipe his chest off and get on with the rest of his evening of… doing nothing.

Hm.

Okay.

So maybe a lengthy session of self love would do him some good. Dinner wasn't for a few hours, his insides were… clean enough, and his siblings were off in their own pursuits. It was _weird_ being in his childhood room again, at his age. Maybe that was one of the causes of his weird, anxious languor. Some temporal part of his brain was confused, like a weird sort of jet lag. Although thinking of temporal jet lag left his brain skittering away from certain thoughts, because now was very much not the time. 

So. Nice, leisurely masturbation session, to work off some of the excess, uncomfortable energy. That would be something, right? It might as least knock a few cobwebs loose in the old noggin. Get him thinking again. Klaus sat up, groping at his bedside table. Lube. He had lube, at least. He had taken all of his sex toys with him when he moved out, but he was pretty sure he had left some lube. 

He found it, under an old packet of cigarettes, and then he was stretching out luxuriously, enjoying the chance to just lie in bed naked. It was an undersold pleasure, all things considered. He rolled onto his back, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and giving it a long, solid stroke. Oh, that was good. He was going from sort of hard to all the way hard, and he threw his head back and moaned up at the ceiling, humping into his hand. It was good - oh, it was good… but he needed more than that. He sat up, and he groped for the lube, dripping it across his hand. He stroked himself again, slick and smooth, and he threw his head back and moaned up at the ceiling. So much better. Although… mm, he wanted something in his ass. Something thick and solid, heavy.

He let his eyes drift shut, daydreaming about the last time he’d been fucked - it had been Dave, the two of them in a hotel on leave. It had been _good_ , too, the kind of sweet, slow fucking that always made his toes curl. If he stayed on the surface level of that - the feel of Dave’s cock inside of him, the heft and weight of it, the way his own cock had rubbed between their bodies, the wet, open look on Dave’s face…

No, this wasn’t working. He was just getting weepy, thinking about that. What was the last time he’d had sex _before_ Dave? That had been a long time ago, emotionally, temporally, however else those things were thought about that. The last really good sex he’d had that wasn’t with Dave had probably been with that one girl he’d met at a club, with purple hair and a strap on that had matched. It had been a good toy, too - smooth, girthy, filling him in all the good places. She’d fucked him over the sink of the club, her hand in his hair, her hips working as she fucked him with that lovely piece of silicone. That was what he needed - to be fucked with a good dildo like that one.

… he’d taken all his sex toys with him when he moved out.

Fuck.

Okay.

Klaus paused, looking speculatively around his bedroom. So okay. This was a bit more complicated than he thought it would be. But he’d be able to handle it. It wouldn’t be too much trouble. He’d managed to do this before he’d owned dildos or had people willing to stick various things in him. It’d be like the good ol’ days! A return to his youth! It would be good for him.

* * *

His youth had _sucked_. 

Well, okay, he knew that, what with the intense training, the being locked amongst the corpses, and trying to find love from the implacable brick wall that was his father. But Klaus was discovering heretofore unknown ways that his youth had sucked, that he’d never thought of before.

He couldn’t find much of anything to fuck himself within reach of his bed, except for a bunch of the old permanent markers he used to write all over his walls. He was too horny to do a comprehensive search of the room at this point, or maybe too… lazy. Or too desperate? It was a weird combination, and it made him itch - he wanted to have his orgasm, and be past this point. But some part of him wanted to savor it as well. It had been so long since he’d had a chance to just enjoy himself that he didn’t entirely remember how to do it in the first place. Or, at least, how to do it by himself.

Admittedly, life hadn’t exactly been… calm as of late, what with one thing and another. Some surreal part of him was still getting used to the fact that his room was not, in fact, part of a giant pile of rubble. Maybe there was too much he was avoiding, and he just needed to deal with his issues like an adult, instead of metaphorically sticking his fingers in his ears and going “la la la” very loudly. Five had done weird things involving time travel, or possibly dimensional travel or something weirder. Kiaus didn’t want to look at it too closely, for fear of certain vital parts of his psyche going “sproing” in ways they shouldn’t have. 

Klaus, still flat on his back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. This was supposed to be a leisurely jerk off session - he needed to stop being so distracted by… well, everything. He was too tired of running away from his problems, but also too tired to deal with them.

With a groan, he grabbed a handful of markers. Because fuck it. He didn’t need to be introspective. 

* * *

Klaus moaned into his pillow, and that jostled the markers inside of him. There were four of them, all lubed up, cap side out. It was… it was an interesting sensation, to be sure. He remembered it, faintly, from being a horny, lonely teenager who wanted to get fucked but didn’t yet have the guts to leave the house. He’d never put four in at once, but, well… he’d been less adventurous as a youth, and hadn’t yet known the degree of what he could take. 

He humped shallowly into the bed, one arm braced on the bed, the other awkwardly craned around himself to push and pull the markers in and out. They were difficult to move - the plastic was smooth against his fingertips, and he was half worried he’d pull a cap off. It wasn’t, technically, safe to stick things in his butt that could get stuck, but he’d worry about that later. He wasn’t exactly close to coming, but it was good, a kind of good that felt faintly dirty, and it had been a while since he’d been safely dirty. He humped into the bed, the head of his cock dragging across the sheets, leaving a wet trail. He was drooling pre-come, the way he always did when he was penetrated, and he wasn’t sure when he was going to come, but he was -

“Klaus?”

Klaus froze up, and looked wildly over his shoulder. 

“Mom,” Klaus said, and he would have sat up, but then the markers might have been lost inside of him, and that would be very much not good, but then Grace wouldn't have been able to see the markers in his ass, which was the ideal in this case. "Mom, can you -"

"Klaus," Grace said, and there was that scolding note that he had been dreading. "You _know_ that isn't safe." 

"I'm sorry, Mom, I was just -"

She walked in (leaving the door _wide open_ , thanks Mom!), her heels clicking. Her hand went to his back, between his shoulder blades, and she applied just enough force to keep him still. Despite all the years he’d known that she was, in fact, a robot designed by his father to keep them out of trouble, he still sometimes forgot that she was not just a demure little housewife.

"Exploration and stimulation are both important, healthy things," she said, in the same tone she used when she had told him to brush his teeth or straighten his tie, "but there are ways to do it safely." The tips of her fingers were moving along the stretched out rim of his hole, and he couldn't hold back the little keen that was edging out of his throat.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Klaus said, his voice rough.

"If one of these became stuck, I would have to get the speculum -"

"Yes, Mom, I under _stand_ ," Klaus managed to gasp out, as one of the markers was pulled out of him. It was a smooth, slick feeling - the plastic was utterly unique that way, without the familiar drag of silicone or the cold firmness or metal. It was dropped on the bed next to him, rolling into the dip of the mattress and against his leg. It was still warm from being in his body. 

"And it would be incredibly uncomfortable for you," she said, pulling another marker out, and putting it down next to the other one.

"Very," Klaus agreed. He was getting harder, his heart beating in his ears and in his dick. He was still humping against the bed awkwardly, his cock trapped between his belly and the sheets. She wasn't giving him much give, keeping him in place with the hand between the shoulder blades.

"I don't ever want you to be uncomfortable," said Grace, and her voice was so earnest that he glanced over his shoulder at her. Was she being sarcastic? Klaus knew that she had been fiddling with her own code since Daddy dearest had popped off; was she _capable_ of sarcasm? She was smiling down at him, almost beatific. "Is something the matter, Klaus, darling?" Her hand moved from between his shoulders to the top or his head, burying her fingers in the thick curls.

"No," Klaus said. "Everything is… peachy." His mother had caught him masturbating, and was now acting like something out of some kind of fucked up porno. He had to admit, he hadn't ever had a fantasy like this before. Although he had a feeling he might have been about to start. 

"I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable, darling," Grace repeated, and then she used the hand in his hair to push his face back into his pillow, applying just enough pressure that he could still breathe, but he was muffled. "Although… hm."

That was a new one. Klaus's father had always been against any kind of speech filler - no "um"s or "hm"s or "like"s were ever uncommented on. Of course, he had programmed Grace to do without. That she was using one… well, he wasn't sure what that hinted at, but it did suggest that _something_ was afoot.

As it were. 

Grace pulled out the third marker, and Klaus whined, embarrassed. He already missed the stimulation, the sensation of being filled. It clicked when it knocked against the other ones. 

"Sh," Grace said, not unkindly, and then she pulled out the last marker. "Don't go anywhere, Klaus," she said, and she patted him on the head, then patted him on the head. "I'll be right back."

"Not going anywhere," Klaus said weakly, his voice rough and muffled by the pillow, which was smeared with his eyeliner. Where would he go, his ass still wet and open, his cock dripping pre-come like a leaking faucet?

He heard her rifling around his room, no idea what she was looking for - he was pretty sure that he had taken all of his sex toys with him when he had moved. What was she looking for? She was humming, something jaunty that he didn't recognize - maybe it was something from those old musicals she liked to watch some nights.

He was drifting, and then there was a hand on his lower back, and then she was… leaning over him, her breasts soft, the satin of her dress smooth against his back. He could smell her perfume, sweet and thick over his senses.

"Pardon my reach," she said, and her voice vibrated through her chest, tickling across his skin. Then she was standing over him again, and he heard the click of the lube bottle being opened again.

 _This would be the most amazing shit ever if I was high_ , he thought, somewhat delirious. How did he know he wasn't high right now, or dreaming, or dying out on a field in Vietnam like in that one fucked up movie he had seen, with the creepy hospital scene. Maybe his whole life was a dream, and all of these in between bits were just filler for… who knew what?

Klaus was yanked rather forcefully out of his ruminations by something hard and blunt probing his hole. Grace's hand was on his lower back again, keeping him in place, and she was guiding… something into him. He couldn't tell what it was. "Mom?" He kept his face in his pillow, his hands clutching at the sheets until his knuckles were white. "Mom, what is that?"

"Nothing to worry about," she assured him, and she pushed it in deeper, as he bore down around it. It was slick with lube, and smooth - the shape was phallic, rounded.

"I'm not worried," Klaus said, and he groaned, as she drew it out some, then pushed it back in deeper. "I'm just… wondering. That's all."

"Your hairbrush," Grace said pleasantly, and she pushed it in again, deeper this time. "If you're going to experiment with anal stimulation, you need to be sure that it won't get stuck inside of you." She twisted it, then tapped the top. The taps seemed to vibrate down the length of the handle, right up against his prostate. 

"Oh," Klaus said thickly. "How novel." He gasped, and then he got up on his knees, his ass in the air. It gave her more leverage, and one of his hands went between his legs, to grab his cock. He was balanced on one arm precariously, nearly slipping on his sheets as he pumped his cock desperately. 

"Very good," Grace said in an approving tone of voice. She was fucking him with the hairbrush in earnest now, the length of it passing over his prostate. "How's that, Klaus?"

"It's good," Klaus said, and his voice broke. "It's _so_ good, Mom, fuck…"

"Language, Klaus," Grace scolded, and she twisted the hairbrush inside of him. 

He made a gut shot sound, and grabbed the bed to keep from falling over. He humped forward, his cock slapping against his belly, the head occasionally dragging over the sheets. "S-s-sorry, Mom," Klaus said, and the perversity of the whole situation flopped down on him like an anvil to the head. 

His _mother_ was fucking him. His actual mother. He was going to come with his own hairbrush up his ass, from his mother fucking him. 

His cock was dripping more pre-come onto the bed - if he was in a more shameless mood ( _more_ shameless?) he might have even used the word "gushing" as a descriptor. He gasped as Grace's delicate fingers slid down his back, along the ridges of his spine, the hairbrush still fucking him relentlessly. He was so _filled_ \- the physical sensation of the smooth wood inside of him, and the sheer mindfuck that his actual Mother was the one thrusting it. There was something sick about this, deliciously sick. Although at least it was helping him with whatever that weird craving was that had been twisting at the base of his spine.

Not unlike what Grace was doing with the brush, come to think of it. 

"Is it good, darling?" The same voice she used to ask if he liked the cookies, or the patch she had sewn on his jacket.

"Good," Klaus panted, the sweat dripping off of him, his eyes squeezing shut. "So fucking good. So… fucking… _good_. 

The hairbrush was yanked out of him, and then there was a loud noise, and a burst of white hot pain. She was hitting him with the back of the hairbrush, oh _christ_. "Language," Grace admonished, and she hit him two more times, then slid the handle back inside of him. 

_I can never use that brush on my hair again_ , ran through his mind, and there was an almost gibbering quality to the thought. She was going harder now, and faster. He could hear the wet, squelching noises the brush was making. She wasn't panting the way a human being would, but the mechanical hum he associated with her exerting herself was a little bit louder than usual. 

Grace's hand was on his ass now, and she was… holding one of the cheeks open. She was watching his ass take the wooden handle, stretch around it. What was the look on her face? Was it the same as the one she wore when she was examining her cross stitching, or trying to clean a particularly recalcitrant pan? 

"You're doing such a _good_ job, Klaus," Grace said, and it was delivered so… sweetly, the same way she complimented him for washing the dishes or combing his hair the way she liked. 

Klaus came across his bed, across his chest, his belly. She fucked him through it, then let him collapse in a heap on the bed, carefully removing the hairbrush from inside of him and setting it down somewhere. 

"You should shower," she said, and her hand was cool on his overheated, sweaty back. "Dinner is in an hour."

Klaus gave a shaky thumbs up. 

"I'll come by to strip the bed after your shower, dear,” said Grace, and then she was leaning down, kissing the top of his head. “There you go, darling. Feeling better?”

Klaus shuddered, and he nodded. His face was teary, his whole body utterly relaxed. He didn’t know what he was feeling right now, but at least all the filler noise in his head had quieted down. Maybe he’d deal with it all later, but for the next few minutes… he let himself be lulled by the quiet tapping of Grace’s heels as she left, and he just inhabited his body, his eyes closed and his heart beating slowly in his chest.


End file.
